Omi's pilgrimage
by Amber Dawn-chan
Summary: After all is said and done. We are all only human. Omi finds himself wanting more than a monk's life after the fight against evil has settled down. He decides to pay a visit to the one person he always felt most drawn to. Perhaps it is also because a certain Dragon lord mentioned in passing that a certain genius might be heading for danger...Or perhaps he has already found it.


I don't own Xiaolin Showdown, but I always loved the show. I do not make any money writting fics for it. I think I want to ship Jack Spicer with every character in the series. I do have more a penchant for boy x boy, but i have no problem with boy x girl or girl x girl. I just really like Jack playing the submissive. Anyway this time I though about a future fic. Omi so had a crush on Jack in the show (at least it seemed like it to me.) I've seen nice drawings of this pairing on deviant art and other places, but not many fics. I'm not really sure about the differences in age but this would be set about five years after the series...I have not seen chronicles, so I am not entirely sure what events took place between the first series and the that. Well enough rambling on with the story.

* * *

Omi's Pilgrimage

* * *

The young man stood at the cross walk among dozens of strangers. He stood out with his shaved head and tattooed brow, but otherwise he was wearing regular clothing for once instead of his temple garb. The light changed and he followed the throng of people across the temporarily clear path on the otherwise busy street.

He jogged down the street seeing his destination growing in his view. People occasionally looked at him strangely but being in such a large city there were stranger sights then a Xiaolin monk in a pair of blue jeans and a crisp white work shirt.

Raimundo had made fun of his clothing choices when he had helped him pick out clothes for his little pilgrimage. The jeans looked too new, the shirt screamed "NERD," the shoes were just so plain. White, rubber souled tennis shoes. There were other things. Rai picked out for him. He just didn't feel comfortable yet to wear. He had to mentally prepare himself for not wearing his red and white robes. If there were any occasion that a person turned their security blanket into an outfit it would look like Omi's typical outfit.

He saved his more 'fashionable' attire for later, once he grew accustomed to the feel of these less flashy things. He would wear his more expensive clothes (a gift from Kimiko and Raimundo.) When he was good and ready. Omi had to wonder why one would buy something that looks older and pay more for it when you could just as easily break in the things you already have...except he didn't really have anything but what he had gotten from the temple. He was a penniless orphan.

His entire trip was sponsored by his friends. Clay had given him the plane ticket, and some "spendin' money." Kimiko had helped find a small apartment for him to stay and saw about the fist months rent and groceries. This journey wasn't about the destination though. It was about one person. A person he was about to finally see after a five year separation.

* * *

The university where Jack Spicer taught was a sprawl of several buildings. Rather huge, and encompassing a student center that could be considered a small galleria with a book store, a small grocery store, several fast food outlets, a movie theater and even a bowling alley.

Professor Spicer rarely went to the student Center if he could help it. Despite the fact that he was the same age as the majority of the students that liked to frequent it. He didn't like mingling among his age peers. It could lead to something less than professional happening.

Unfortunately for Jack the building where he normally held lectures and labs in was being renovated. He had been relocated to the third floor of the student center for lectures. The room he was stuck with was normally reserved for large meetings, student body assemblies, and sometimes banquets.

Jack walked through the crowded lobby past the potent smell of over cooked fried food, through the cheerful sea of young people hanging out, lounging in the over stuffed couches and chairs that were spread about. He avoided eye contact as well as physical contact with these people if he could help it. Not that distancing himself from his own age group helped his career much, but it could be much worse.

His intellectual peers looked down on him both for his age and his strange appearance. Even knowing his color was perfectly natural. Of course he probably shouldn't have gotten his precious eye hook tattooed under his eye when he had turned eighteen, but he loved it. It was his signature. It could be much worse. In his first semester teaching at the college three different Security guards accosted him for being in "restricted areas."

He was even accused of being a prowler and having a counterfeit id card. One man in particular, Carl Garret, still eyed him hatefully. He had physically restrained Jack and nearly dislocated his arm. Carl had been reprimanded and almost fired. Jack was encouraged by the University not to press charges and the man was demoted from his supervisor position.

Lord knows why he was kept on after pinning Jack to the floor with his knee and screaming at him about breaking into the Science hall after hours. Even after he was allowed up and presented his ID and a copy of the building's keys and security pass card the man insisted he was there either tampering with equipment or stealing test answers.

Mr. Garret was probably someone's relative. It's all Jack could assume since he basically got a slap on the wrist and Jack had been treated as if it was his fault. Jack might have resigned if he didn't need the money and was afraid to move around too much. He had his reasons for choosing this school to teach at. The city was more built around the school then the other way around. The university encompassed the majority of the city's land. All things considered it wasn't a bad place to hide in plain sight.

* * *

Omi was awe struck. The university was quite nice looking. There were planters of flowers. The open fields and manicured lawns looked beautiful if not natural. The buildings were all large, and rather old looking (not as old as the temple but still well aged).

The people seemed nice. He kept getting smiles and waves from the female population. He wasn't bad at all to look at even with his shaved head and facial tattoo, or perhaps that was the draw. Omi had long ago shed his baby fat. A strong sharp jaw and high cheek bones replaced the round cherub features. His dark eyes were wise but still kind. His mouth was set in a near permanent smile as he looked around flashing his white well cared for teeth. Even in his "uncool" clothes he was getting appreciative looks from the girls he passed and even some of the boys were looking too. He stopped to ask directions more than once; this campus was a bit confusing.

When he had arrived at the building where Jack was supposed to be he saw "do not enter" and "under renovation" signs. He thanked his stars he had been taught to read English. Kimiko had thought it a good idea since the group often spent time in places that were predominantly English speaking.

He had even much improved his use of the spoken language. Much to Raimundo's disappointment, Omi had learned how to use slang correctly. Depriving the Brazilian man of one of his favorite forms of entertainment. He still had the occasional slip but he was always quick to point out the the cackling Brazilian (sometimes in Portuguese) that he had mastered not one language but four different languages...well he was fluent in understanding and proficient in speaking English and Japanese. He was able to taunt people in Portuguese mostly.

Raimundo seemed to be limited to using his first language to insult or tease. But sometimes when he called his family he spoke to them in his native tongue. It hadn't hurt that Omi was a knowledge sponge. Nearly a clean slate having been exposed to very little of the outside world before the other three monks came into his life. He learned from each of the other dragons by observation and asking for explanations when he was not certain about the meaning of something. Generally they were happy to oblige Omi's interest in their homes and cultures.

So he was quite capable of finding his way in the city but now it seemed impossible to get a straight answer out of anybody. It actually seemed like the moment he mentioned Jack's name many people got a sour look on their faces. Others laughed. A couple people warned him against seeking out the prodigy saying a few not so nice words about him. Others looked Omi up and down and asked if he was Jack's boyfriend, or saying they pitied him for having to deal with the toughest teacher in the entire school.

Omi would just smile and say he was friends with the young Professor. He believed them to be something like friends. At least he hoped that they could be...

Jack Spicer _did _teach the toughest curriculum in the university. He was professor of robotics, engineering, and he also taught advanced Calculus and Trigonometry. He did not accept excuses, never allowed himself to be bought for a grade and he didn't take extra credit.

If a person wanted to work in his field he damn sure better know his material. This wasn't a business degree or a degree in the arts (offense meant on Jack's part). You might be able to fake your way through school, but you could not charm a robot into working properly. You could not promise your consumers that their product would not kill people with a wink and a crisp one hundred dollar bill.

Oh god and the offers of sexual gratification. Jack rolled his eyes thinking about it as he walked to his afternoon classes. Men and women. If people could whore their way into intelligence some of these people would put Eisenstein to shame. Course he was a bit of a slut himself actually-Eisenstein not Jack. Why had he even given up on his quest to rule the world anyway? Oh yes, the bills. Evil isn't as lucrative today as it was five years ago. He had debts and his parents weren't about to pay them. He had embarrassed the family one too many times. He was out...and outed he supposed.

So what! He was gay. He'd had it bad for Chase Young. Who wouldn't switch sides with that presented before you. The fact that Jack hadn't even garnered so much as a nod from the man. No let him rephrase that. Chase Young though he was worth less than the dirt under his boots. He had said so many times.

Jack hadn't cared for anyone else. Nobody. It was just not there. The attraction to other men, or women...nada. So he lived the life of a celibate monk. That was a laugh. Jack Spicer the monk. It wasn't like he was pining for Chase Young to come declare his undying love.

No that man, that creature, wasn't capable of anything but malice toward him. It was better that Jack had left the Heylin side. Here he was, already retired from his first profession and only twenty four years old. He couldn't say he hated his job. He could be evil here and it was almost expected.

Softheartedness was for losers. The people who want to play with cute little children and fluffy little animals all day, or paint, or play with balls. Those people could have their fulfilling little lives where they were completely coddled by society.

Robotics was cold. It wasn't for bleeding hearts and waffling little pansies...okay maybe the pansy thing was a bit far. But really building a machine that could potentially rip someone's head off with the minimalist of effort that was...kind of awesome actually. True there were robots that diffused bombs and rescued hostages and took bullets to protect people. But those machines could one day be utilized...not by him of course he had lost his drive for ruling the world. But someday he'd like to think he contributed to some future genius's plans for world domination.

Jack arrived at his class on that thought and looked into the audience boredly, "Hand your assignments to the end of the row, and pass them forward." No, 'good afternoon class,' from him and his students knew not to expect more.

For the most part he was perhaps respected, perhaps feared. His lectures were the most intense, his labs the most grueling, and his tests the most difficult. Those few who made it past the Spicer gauntlet patted themselves on the back, and while they all (the ones who make it at least) hate his guts they really did respect him.

Professor Spicer did not play favorites and trying to bribe him was probably the worst mistake you could make in your career. he was the leading mind in robotics, and despite this he chose to teach. Many of the students theorized that he just enjoyed making them suffer too much to get a higher paying job. To an extent...ok yes he loved making his classes squirm. But he also wanted to stay as close to the ground as possible (figuratively).

The young professor let his class aid collect the papers as he turned to the white board, uncapped a marker, and began drawing a diagram of a prepultion system. Someone threw a wad of paper toward him. The redheaded man turned and batted it away.

"Mr. Cross?" Jack zeroed in on one of his problem students. He was rich, handsome and spoiled, but he wasn't stupid. Oh how Jack wished he was, but he actually knew the curriculum very well.

The man in the third row from the back fourth seat in from the exit was snickering, but he didnlt break eye contact with his Professor.

"Did you have a reason for disrupting the class or do you feel above the rest of us. If so, you could show me a solution to this equation to make the propulsion system I just drew work."

"Oh, no Professor Spicer," He smirked, "Please continue."

Jack gave him a dead stare that had sent many of his peers from the room in tears, "It wasn't a request. Come to the board, _now_."

"_I'd like to see you cum_," The student said under his breath making some of his seat mates giggle nervously. An eraser from the board sailed past his head and thudded against the back of an empty chair right behind the rude young man.

"Keep the comments to yourself," Jack said sharply, "And get up here." The other young man straightened. He hadn't expected Jack to actually hear him from across the room. The projectile ereaser was a surprise too, but he smirked even wider.

"Feisty," He mumbled and stood up, "I like that."

Jack crossed his arms and glared. The people around him stopped laughing as the temprature in the room suddenly dropped a few dozen degrees.

Finally the young man made his way to the board and smiled down at his teacher. Jack bared his teeth, "Get to work Mr. Cross." The young man winked at Jack and took the marker from the professor's hand. He made sure to touch the pale genius's hand more than was strictly necessary.

"You know I could buy you," He whispered, "Jack Spicer...Or rather I could buy your debts, the ones from Panda Bubba. _Really Professor_ borrowing from a gangster, and you call yourself a genius." Jack's blood turned to ice but he maintained his posture and pointed at the board.

"Now, Mr. Cross," Jack growled.

"Andrew," He hummed, "Call me Andrew, please professor." The taller of the two grinned meanly but then turned to begin his work.

The rest of the class had not been privy to the onesided conversation, fortunatly for Jack. Probably for Andrew Cross also. Jack would have found a way to kill him and made it look like an accident if he had exposed his secret to the entire class.

Jack pinched the bridge of his nose. This one was trouble, real trouble since he was smart enough to not need to buy his way through the course; but had felt the need to dig up dirt on him, sexually harass him and threaten him. It wouldn't have been the first time one of his students tried to out whit him...would it be his last? The Cross family were connected and rich.

He looked up and smirked as the young man had managed a solution, but had made it way too complicated.

"Nice Mr. Cross," Jack waved him away, "Go sit down."

"Can anybody point out any flaws in Mr. Cross's equasion?" No hands came up. Jack wasn't surprised. He was technically correct but there were at least three more efficent solutions. Quickly in his pratcied hand he wrote out the simplest of the three solutions that had come to mind right away.

Jack launched into a lecture trying to shake the feeling of disgust that was crawling over his skin, what he couldn't get rid of was the sense that Phillip Cross was staring intently at him like a lion who has spotted easy prey. Jack Spicer was not easy prey. Not anymore.


End file.
